Snapshots
by Daniisreallyreallywierd
Summary: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and assorted challenges geared toward the Sylar/Mohinder pairing. M for probable coarse language, vague sexual references, and violence.
1. Polaroids

**Polaroids**

"Some say that you are the only one that can change your life. Over time, I've come to disagree, because without Zane Taylor, I wouldn't be where I am today. I certainly wouldn't be in an apartment in New York, at least.

"I've come to terms with the fact that Zane-or at least, the one I went to Montana with, the Zane Taylor I fell in love with, slept with-never existed. He was a facade invented by a serial killer in order to gain my trust and my father's list. While he never got either one, he did leave a lasting effect on me. He broke through my distant attitude, and when the illusion of Zane shattered, a piece of it lodged itself in my heart."

The rest of the page was burnt to cinders, crumbling at Sylar's touch. He didn't know if it had been saved from some accidental fire or if it had been intentionally set ablaze then put out somehow, but he found himself hoping for the former.

The scientist must have been at the lab. The apartment didn't feel cold enough for him to be able to reason that he no longer lived here. _Then again, maybe that means he IS gone. He's always been... frigid._

He paused for a moment. _You're cheating destiny. Didn't Mendez tell you that you can't fight the future? Mohinder can not-WILL not save you. Besides, your reasoning is shit. Chandra created a monster, so his son has the capability to kill it? You're pathetic, and you're leaving right now and you're not going to consider asking for help from anyone ever again._

Despite his thoughts, Sylar walked toward where the chair had been, away from the door. He surveyed the room around him. Minor changes nonwithstanding, it seemed to be the same as it had been the last time he'd been here.

He wandered over to the desk, sitting down and removing his coat. "Welcome home, Dr. Suresh," he mused quietly, shuffling through papers on the desk. Halfhearted theories scribbled onto lined paper littered the area, mixed with printed emails. What was the point of that, anyway? As his hand moved to pick something up across the table, his elbow bumped a copy of Activating Evolution onto the floor, causing it to make an unconvincing _thump_ that sounded hollow. He picked it up from the floor, opening it gingerly in case it had some sort of contraption that would hurt him somehow. With Mohinder, he could never be certain.

Such was not the case. Inside the book-the book that tied them together, inseparably intertwined because of its author-lay a set of polaroids, a set that Sylar had thought to have been destroyed simply due to the fact that Mohinder had been the one to keep them. It had been he, rather than the Indian, that had insisted on taking pictures: it was photographic evidence for himself so that he could prove that he wasn't always a monster. Then the revelation had occurred. The tuning fork, the gun... He hadn't been good at all. The hunger had gotten the best of him, and it had created a rift between them that he didn't feel could be bridged. He had almost tried on his last visit, but that had been a more serious occasion; one where regaining at least his original power, if not more, had been the primary objective.

Tucking the first polaroid into his pocket, he stood up to leave as he always did when he noticed a cold half-cup of chai sitting on the counter. The nostalgia overpowered him, and before he knew what he was doing he had already ended up standing there with it to his lips. He set it down just as quickly, feeling dizzy already. It had been drugged again, Mohinder knew he was coming, how could he have been so _stupid__? _He took a step toward the door, but made it no further before collapsing onto the apartment floor.

Eventually, his eyes did open again. "I can't feel my fingers," he remarked with a smirk out loud to the dark room. "That really wasn't a very clever plan, doctor. I just had a moment of... Nostalgia, let's say."

"You missed being duct taped to a chair?" The Indian's voice penetrated the darkness like a knife. "Besides, it wasn't the chai that did it. I just happened to forget to drink the rest of it before I left. You would've had to wait at least a few more seconds had that been the cause."

"Then what was it? And how did you know the reaction had no delay?"

"I'm not telling," Mohinder responded simply. "You took one of my photographs."

"You mean _mine._ I took the pictures in the first place. You're letting them collect dust and hiding them from the world. Why am I not allowed to have one?"

"They're all that's left of Zane. I can't just give them to the person that killed him."

"If you're talking about him in the context of who I was pretending to be, I _am_ Zane," Sylar growled. "This is all that's left of what being truly happy was like for me. But you'd prefer to take everything that's mine and leave me with nothing, wouldn't you, parasite?"

A gun clicked, pressed against his forehead. "Why do you keep coming here? What else have you stolen from me?"

"A piece of your heart," he replied, "but you already knew that. It's the same as you stole from me. Why do you think I went to you first when I needed help and thought I'd explode? You meant something to me. You really did give me hope. I still trusted you even after you proved that I shouldn't, and then again when I came to get my powers fixed. Your blood already runs through my veins, Mohinder, and that fixed a part of me. Think about it. Think of what the rest of you could do to fix the rest of me. I want you to prove to me that I'm not a total monster, that I don't _have _to be like this. That I have another way of living available to me. I keep coming here because I need you. Your father broke me and I know that you're the only person that could even relate to that sort of damage, and you could undo it or at the very least help me to look past it."

Mohinder sighed. "What's in it for me? Why would helping a convicted serial killer be any good for someone like me? Why _should _I help you?"

"Because the part of me that was Zane never died. If anything, he's gotten stronger, or at least something very similar to him has."

Sylar winced as he felt the gun lift, the geneticist's whisper tickling his ear.

"If you're lying, I will make you wish you had never been born unless you tell me right now."

He swallowed. "When I get someone's power, I get a few traits of theirs along with it. When I lost all my old powers because of the virus, I kept some of the traits."

There was silence for a moment. "The part of you that was Zane... You don't really know who you are, do you?"

He stayed quiet, turning his head away from Mohinder. "I'll take that as a no." He was suddenly very cold. "How can I help bring Zane back? I refuse to help a monster like Sylar, but someone trying to fight a demon inside themselves... Even if Zane is only a tiny part of you, I'll do my best."

"Zane was a combination of the real Zane Taylor's traits and the real me. The insecure one that just wanted to be special, to mean something to someone." He swallowed. "My real name is Gabriel Gray, and that's who I want to be. Not Sylar. Not Zane. Not Patient Zero. Just... me."

"Then let's start by starting over." He felt Mohinder take the photograph from his pocket and walk away to hide it somewhere across the room. The lights flicked on, and he returned with a camera. He turned off the flow of the curare, releasing Sylar and helping him to his feet.

"Hello, Gabriel. My name is Mohinder Suresh. It's nice to meet you." He grinned. "This is a rather important moment, wouldn't you say?" He held out the camera.

Sylar paused. Was this what he wanted? There was no turning back once he decided to take this path. But if he decided not to, would he ever get the chance again?

Gabriel smiled, nodding at Mohinder as he took the camera. He leaned in close, turning the camera toward them.

"_Iacta alea est,_" he muttered, then pressed the button.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Translation of the Latin is below, as is the definition of "polaroid" in case there's a culture gap.<p>

(_Iacta alea est-"_The die is cast," "let the die be cast," etc. Caesar reportedly said this when crossing the Rubicon with his armies as a fugitive, knowing that he would not be able to turn back from that point on and would have to win or die. It has come to be a phrase meaning "there is no turning back.")

(_polaroid-_denoting a type of camera with internal processing that produces a finished print rapidly after each exposure, or denoting film for or a photograph taken with such a camera.)

Hope you enjoyed. More to come soon.


	2. Snapshots

AN: Decided to do the Music Meme, which is as follows:

_Choose a subject and put your entire music collection on shuffle, hit play, and write. Write for as long as each song plays and move on to a different writing when the song switches (even if it's mid-sentence). Go for 5-10 songs._

I went for 10 and chose Sylar/Mohinder as my subject. Might continue some of these. Probably won't. They're only intended to be little pieces of what could be. Hence the chapter title, and the title of this collection itself.

This chapter features sexual mentions and character death. Read at your own risk.

* * *

><p><span>One Week: Barenaked Ladies<span>

Their fights were never quite typical. They were frequent, but brief, never lasting more than a week. Yet neither was willing to back down, and apologies took a long time. This was mostly due to the fact that Mohinder was stubborn, and Sylar found his frustration to be endearing.

The pair sat on opposite ends of the couch. "Are you going to apologize?"

"Nope." Sylar tried his very hardest not to burst into a grin. "You're not either?"

"No."

Gaston (Soundtrack Version): Beauty And The Beast

"Gosh, it disturbs me to see you, Gaston-"

"Don't even start with that." Mohinder glared. "The super-strength analogy isn't as funny as you seem to think."

"As a specimen, yes, you're intimidating."

"Shut up."

"Every last inch of him's covered with-"

"Sylar!"

"No one sucks dick like Gaston-"

Sylar was pinned to the wall. "You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

Entertainment: Rise Against

"Are you satisfied with the way you're living?"

A sigh. "No."

"You're a desperate cry for attention, but no one will so much as humor you. How sad."

"I'm not asking for your pity, Mohinder."

"Who said I was giving it to you? I still think you're screwed up."

"Oh, you're _so _considerate."

Hello: Evanescence

Rain clouds rolled over the New York skyline, tinting it a deep blue-grey. Sylar, tied to his chair and pumped full of curare again, stared out the window as Mohinder tinkered with something behind his back.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No. Not yet, at least."

"You should."

The silence that ensued was louder than anything he could have said.

A Beautiful Lie: 30 Seconds To Mars

"You always say you want to be special."

"I'm not. I'm really... I don't know. I'm just not."

"You know that's a lie. You're one of the most extraordinary people I know."

"You shouldn't be complimenting me. The determination to become what you're saying I am is what drove me to kill your father."

"He wanted Shanti more than me. I was born too late, essentially useless to him. I... I convinced myself to stop caring."

"Now that's a lie if I ever heard one. A beautiful one, but nevertheless a lie. You're just as bad as me when it comes to that."

Kotov Syndrome: Rise Against

This was an unstable relationship, built on nothing but the concept of mutual loneliness. Being alone together wasn't quite as bad, but he didn't want to be alone together anymore. The fighting was endless and he wanted it to stop. "You killed my father."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

He wanted to be together together.

Shining Apollo: Galt Aureus

"I can't always save you. Maybe I won't be enough someday."

"I have faith in you."

Mohinder didn't want to believe him, but he looked too sincere to be lying.

He wasn't sure whether he preferred the idea of no one believing in him, or the only one that did being Sylar.

At this point they sounded about equally depressing.

Everything You Ever: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

The still form lay at his feet, the beautiful mocha skin marred by blood, blood everywhere. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to save the world, not kill someone. Especially not this someone.

He glanced around the apartment, finally finding salvation in a sleek silver form. He could still save the world, all on his own.

Sylar cocked the gun and brought it to his temple.

"And I won't feel a thing."

So Far Away: Crossfade

"Mohinder... you're awfully far from home, aren't you?"

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"I didn't mean home in India. You're out of your element."

He shook his head-Sylar wasn't there, it was just his self-doubt-and continued to work on his current project.

"Things will never be the same between us," he mused aloud. "He abused my trust, and now I'm moving on." He felt free, and right, for the first time since he could remember. He was free not only of his father's shadow, but of Sylar as well.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Everybody's Fool: Evanescence

This could only be explained as the phenomenon of "deja vu." The major difference being that this time, he was cornered.

"Do you have any idea how much I cared about you?"

He fumed silently-there was no way out. Mohinder had been much more careful this time.

"You lied to me. You broke my heart, and I will _never _be the same for it.

"And you think you're any better?" came the sharp retort.

There was no answer.


End file.
